That Butterfly Feeling
by Asheedee
Summary: She seemed to carry herself quite differently, with her shoulders back and her chest out… well that was something to look at; Hermione had gone and sprouted breasts, when Harry wasn’t looking, he supposed...
1. Time for Breakfast

Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own any of the characters, those are JK's and other peoples' I suppose! I own the storyline, although I'm sure many have done something similar. That's okay, it's not often you find something totally and completely new.

A/N: Edited to make the first two chapters one, as everyone's clamoring for longer chapters... Thanks for the reviews!!! It's all been very helpful. As this is my first story with I may be a little dumb or something. Don't fret. So, it's a H/HR fic, and been edited also to change Hermione being a miraculous new Sex Goddess. Hope you like, comtinue with the reviews please!! THANKS!

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Harry could hear them again... the voices, they were whispering to him. They filled his head, coming from all around him. He struggled to decipher the words, but everything washed together, in a waterfall of breathy conversations. The archway stood, nearly surrounding him, his nose nearly touching the black veil. It seemed that if he only pushed it a little to the side, he would see first a shoulder, a torso, a few strands of tangled black hair, and finally the great smiling face of his godfather, Sirius Black. Harry would reach his hand in, and Sirius would take it, and they'd walk out of the Department of Mysteries, leaving behind the memories of that terrible night forever. One finger touched the veil, then two; his hand gripped the edge of the cloth, trembling, pulling ever-so-slightly...

"HARRY POTTER!" A familiar voice shouted, very near to his ear, awakening him from his slumber. "Are you ever going to wake up!?" Harry could feel someone prodding his side with a wand-like wooden stick, and opened one eye, blearily. "Wossa matter...?" he mumbled, blinking his blurred green eye. The other eye opened, and he could see a girl's face, inches away from his own.

"ARRRGGHHH!!!!" he exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. Unfortunately, seeing as he wasn't in the bed he was used to, he leapt a bit too far backwards and toppled onto the ground with a loud thud. Painfully, Harry untangled himself, and slowly stood up. Straightening out his clothes, he threw what he thought was a very mean, frightening glare at she who had interrupted his sleep; Hermione Granger.

"You aren't allowed to come into my room, you know that," he said, though it was hard to keep a straight face looking at Hermione's pleased grin. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, as he was wearing Dudley's old pajamas, which were too large, and nearly falling off him. The shirt was unbuttoned, and the pants were loosely tied at the waist. His hair was unruly, and stuck up in every place; he had a sudden urge to dive under the covers to hide himself.

Hermione sat down lightly on his bed, smiling as she watched Harry's face turn an alarming crimson color. "It's time for breakfast, Harry," she said. "You'd better hurry downstairs before all the food's gone." She quickly stood up, straightened the blankets that were strewn about over the bed, and, with a last look in Harry's direction, flounced out of the room.

Harry watched her with an open mouth. For the three weeks he had been residing at 12 Grimmauld Place, he had noticed things about Hermione. He couldn't understand what it was that made his stomach fill with butterflies whenever she was around. Of course, many of the boys seemed to be looking at her differently now... he'd noticed Fred and George stealing glances up her skirt as she walked up the stairs when they'd come to visit for a bit.

Something about her was different, but Harry couldn't put a finger on just what it was. Although her teeth had been straight ever since the fourth year, when she'd let Madame Pomfrey shrink her teeth a bit smaller than they had been originally, he had never really noticed just how beautiful a smile she really had. He supposed she'd been smiling more often now, and it was refreshing to see when she did. Also, while her hair was quite as bushy as it ever had been, it seemed to be quite a bit nicer than what he remembered. Perhaps she'd found a new way of styling it, or something.

The thing Harry most noticed about Hermione was her quiet confidence. She seemed to carry herself quite differently than she had when they'd left Hogwarts for summer vacation, with her shoulders back and her chest out... well that was something to look at; Hermione had gone and sprouted breasts, when Harry wasn't looking, he supposed. They weren't LARGE breasts, but they were breasts all the same...

Harry suddenly felt very stupid, standing in his over-large pajamas, thinking about Hermione... because something other than his hair was beginning to stick up. He got mad at himself for thinking about one of his best friends this way, and hurriedly changed into some clothes. After attempting to comb down his hair, he gave up and headed out from Sirius' old bedroom down for breakfast.

The old house seemed remarkably cleaner and almost... sparkly, Harry thought, as compared to the last time he'd visited. Walking down the stairs was no longer a war with the dust that flew up and attacked its disturber, and the windows had been wiped of the grime that once prevented view to the outside.  
  
Another more pleasant attribute of the house was its calmness. Kreacher, the treacherous house-elf that had once made his dwelling in a tiny closet of the house, had been removed and punished, though nobody knew how exactly a house-elf could be punished properly. The subject was always quickly changed whenever anyone dared to ask... but, as the only person who actually cared was Hermione, the miserable elf was soon forgotten.  
  
The absence of the house-elf allowed for the screaming portrait of Sirius' late mum to be removed, at long last. There was, however, a curious inscription left where the portrait had been attached for so many years, written in a language that nobody seemed to be able to read.  
  
The dead house-elves' heads shrine had also been eliminated, much to the relief of everyone. These changes made the house almost fun to live in. The problem was, everything reminded Harry painfully of his godfather, and Harry missed Sirius more and more every time he thought about him. It was especially difficult, sleeping in Sirius' old bedroom. The members of the Order who lived at the house had decided that Harry should get to sleep there, as Sirius was like a father to him in life.  
  
The worst part, Harry supposed, about sleeping in his dead godfather's old room, was the fact that each night he'd been there, he had dreamt the same dream, over and over, about that terrible veil that had caused the death of Sirius. For the month of June when he was staying with the Dursleys, he hadn't had any dreams about Sirius at all, though he had expected to. It was all he thought about, though; the way Sirius had been laughing just as he fell... he stayed in his room, barely eating, not talking at all to his miserable relatives. No, he didn't dream about Sirius... he dreamt about his fate.  
  
He'd had the most horrible dreams about the prophecy he'd seen only a few weeks ago, in Professor Dumbledore's office. He knew now, either he or Voldemort had to die. And if Voldemort were to die... then... he, Harry would have to be the one to murder him. The enormity of it all had filled his head, overwhelming him to the point of hysterical tears. He'd seen so many things in his dreams, but not once had he seen himself being victorious in the fight for the wizarding race.  
  
Shaking his head as though to clear his mind, he began to walk down the stairs once more, for unconsciously, he'd stopped as he thought about his dreams. He reached the bottom landing, and continued on to the kitchen, the scent of eggs and bacon filling his nostrils. His stomach gave a great rumble, and he realized just how hungry he was. Forcing a sort of smile onto his face, he opened the door into the kitchen.  
  
Not very many people were eating there anymore; they'd already shoved their food in their faces and gone off to frolick amongst the flowers, he supposed. Or perhaps they were doing some important Order business. All that remained now in the kitchen were Mrs. Weasley, who was doing the cooking, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," Ginny said, looking up at him. "Or should I say... good afternoon?" She grinned mischievously. Harry narrowed his bright green eyes at her, although he was still smiling.  
  
"Well, it's kind of hard to get any sleep 'round here, with you lot clunking around right underneath me at obscene hours of the night," he retorted, directing his comment at both Ginny and Hermione, who shared the room directly beneath his. "What on earth can you be doing that makes so much noise??"  
  
The small redhead exchanged a sly look with her brown-haired partner in crime. "That's none of your business, that," Hermione said, which threw the two girls into a fit of giggles. They said no more on the subject, and Harry gave up, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Have some breakfast, dear," Mrs. Weasley called to Harry, holding out a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Harry took the plate and set it on the table at the place next to Ron. The ginger-haired boy seemed to be in a sort of stupor, so Harry turned his attention to Hermione. He noticed that she and Ron seemed to be sitting awfully close to each other, and this made him feel rather upset. He watched her talk and laugh with Ginny as he quietly ate his eggs, noticing the way her hair was a sort of golden colour when the sun hit it... and the way her hands moved wildly when she got excited, and the way, when she wasn't excited anymore, she put her hand back in with Ron's...

An intense rage shot through Harry when he saw this, and he stood up violently, shoving his chair back with a loud bang. Everyone, including Ron, who was awoken from his reverie by the noise, and even Mrs. Weasley, stared at Harry in alarm. "Sorry... I've got... a stomachache..." he mumbled, clutching his stomach in an offhand sort of way and walking very briskly out of the room.

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A/N: PLEASE Review!!! I'll love you forever!!


	2. A Startling Conversation

Disclaimer: Yeah, you guys got it... If you need reminding, look at Chapter One... no lawsuits. The end.  
  
A/N: Wow guys!! My inbox is busting open from your reviews!! ...Not really, of course, but kind of... Thanks!! Keep it up; I look forward to hearing your thoughts!! Oh, and a note to those who are concerned about the story being shallow and Hermione becoming beautiful... The way I was thinking, is Harry is becoming more and more like his father was as he gets older, and his father seemed to be a very stuck-up, shallow kind of person. We saw in the Goblet of Fire that Harry didn't even seem to realize that Hermione was a girl until she came to the Yule Ball, all dolled up. He came into the relationship with her as an eleven-year old boy, who doubtlessly thought all girls had cooties, and now as they're growing and maturing, he's beginning to notice things he's never seen before, and while some of the changes in her looks are recently acquired, some have always been there, he's just never really noticed. Thanks though, I can see your point about turning Hermione into a 'Mary-Sue,' I may go back and revise some bits to make it a little more of Harry seeing things he's never seen before, rather than just some miraculous change in Hermione over a few weeks.

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An intense rage shot through Harry when he saw this, and he stood up violently, shoving his chair back with a loud bang. Everyone, including Ron, who was awoken from his reverie by the noise, and even Mrs. Weasley, stared at Harry in alarm. "Sorry... I've got... a stomachache..." he mumbled, clutching his stomach in an offhand sort of way and walking very briskly out of the room.  
  
He slowly walked back up the stairs into Sirius' old bedroom, and when he arrived, he threw himself heavily on the bed, his head pounding miserably. _What is the MATTER with me_, he wondered to himself. _I knew Ron and Hermione had something going on, it's been obvious for ages, but why does it bother me NOW?_  
  
He covered his face with his hands, trying to stop the jealousy running through his veins. He was blatantly refusing to see what was right there, in front of his face; he didn't want to say it to himself, because doing that would only make it true. Still, he couldn't keep denying the fact that he liked Herm-  
  
"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny poked her head through the tiny crack in the door, looking concernedly at Harry. Harry smiled weakly, pulling himself up into a sitting position, nodding to the bed as an invitation for Ginny to have a seat. She smiled a little, and if he didn't know better, he'd think she sort of blushed as she walked through the door. Of course, she really didn't; Ginny had liked Harry once, but he knew she didn't anymore.  
  
Last he'd heard, she was dating some bloke from Hufflepuff, a fourth year Harry didn't know, much to the displeasure of Ron. She had been going out with Dean Thomas at the end of term, but that relationship apparently hadn't lasted very long. Harry had heard vague details, something involving a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and one of Fred and George's fake wands, but that's all he'd been able to get out of anybody on the matter.  
  
Looking at Ginny now, sitting on the bed next to him, he began to feel very awkward about the whole situation, and started fiddling around with the pillow lying next to him on the bed. The silence was a bit uncomfortable, and he began contemplating telling Ginny everything.  
  
"Harry... you haven't got a stomachache," Ginny said abruptly, startling Harry so much that he slightly jumped. He looked at her, amazed at her perception. "I saw the way you looked at Hermione," she whispered quietly, looking down at her hands. Then, she looked up at Harry, though he couldn't read the expression on her face. "D'you... want to talk about it?" she asked.  
  
Harry sighed. "Well... you see... I don't really know what it is, really... I just..."  
  
Ginny cut him off. "You finally realized that Hermione is, indeed, female, and now you're upset that Ron noticed a long time before you ever did." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Well, I-I suppose..." Harry stammered, taken aback by the bold way Ginny was talking. "I mean, of course Hermione's a female, but... she's... different somehow. You wouldn't really under-"  
  
"Don't tell me I wouldn't understand!" Ginny exclaimed, cutting Harry off once more. "Of course I understand! Only I've had to deal with the same thing, over and over, for more than five years now! YOU are the one who doesn't understand, Harry! You just need to let it go, and pretend like it doesn't bother you. Wait for your chance, and then grab it, because fawning all over her and moping about won't make things any better for you, or anybody else!" Her face was bright red, and tears had begun to streak her freckled face. Then, as if her shouting hadn't shocked him enough, she leaned over, and kissed Harry right on the mouth.  
  
It was a nice sort of kiss, Harry supposed, once he got over the initial shock of it. He found himself remembering his first kiss, with Cho Chang, under the mistletoe last Christmas. This kiss was rather like that one... wet... he didn't understand what it was that made girls seem to want to cry while they kissed him. Maybe-  
  
_Bloody hell, Ginny's kissing me!_ Harry thought, pulling himself away from the smaller red-haired girl, who had begun to stroke his hair. While it felt quite nice, he knew he couldn't keep kissing her; it wasn't fair to either of them. They sat together in embarrassed silence, each avoiding the others' eyes. At long last, Harry opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"I... thought you were going out with that Hufflepuff bloke," he muttered quietly, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in the rug on the floor. "I thought... I thought you didn't like me anymore..."  
  
Ginny laughed quietly, a hollow, sad sort of sound. "Of course I still like you... I always have. But like I told you, sometimes you just have to put a smile on, pretend like it doesn't matter anymore. I was a good actress, wasn't I...?" Harry chanced a quick look at her, and saw she was smiling, a bitter smirk that didn't reach her eyes. With a tiny sigh, she stood up, patting Harry's hand gently.  
  
"Sorry about that. I didn't mean for either of us to get upset... I just had to do it, you understand," she said, looking blankly out the window. "I hope everything goes well with Hermione..." Then, she walked out of the room, brushing the fingers of her left hand against her lips, and got all flushed once more.  
  
Harry DID in fact understand why Ginny had kissed him. That had been her chance... He stood up, walking over to the window. Looking out, he could see the overcast sky, occasionally spouting down a tiny bit of drizzle from the large, gray clouds. The sky that day seemed to reflect his mood. He turned away from the window, closing the door, and lying down on his bed.  
  
_Maybe if I get some rest, I'll be in a better mood_, he thought. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

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A/N: This is a bit shorter than the last chapter, but I'd like to get something new up for people to read... I'm slacking, sorry guys! At any rate... please review!! 


	3. A Lonely Existance

Disclaimer: Yeah, you guys know…

A/N: Woahhh! I'm sorry for no updates ever! The summer was quite the crazy one… what with the traumatic events and the grounding and most importantly, WRITERS' BLOCK! Fortunately, I have rediscovered my fic, and am ready to go forth! Join with me when I say… "Fluxx is the hottest game ever!"..? RIGHT. Anyway… the long-awaited CHAPTER THREE!

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Harry DID in fact understand why Ginny had kissed him. That had been her chance... He stood up, walking over to the window. Looking out, he could see the overcast sky, occasionally spouting down a tiny bit of drizzle from the large, gray clouds. The sky that day seemed to reflect his mood. He turned away from the window, closing the door, and lying down on his bed.

_Maybe if I get some rest, I'll be in a better mood_, he thought. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

The weeks following passed uneventfully. Harry spent much of his time thinking about the advice Ginny had given him. He tried, so hard, not to show the jealousy he felt tearing up his insides when Hermione looked at Ron with those eyes… _God, her eyes…_

Harry noticed that the inquiries as to why Harry was acting strangely had diminished. He supposed that Hermione and Ron had just become so tired of hearing the same old "nothing" excuse that they'd just given up on asking altogether. In his weeks of solitude, he came to the realization that, while he'd acted annoyed, he really wished his friends would try to get him to talk more often. It showed him that they cared.

There was nothing he could do about it, however. He watched the world go by around him as he stayed trapped in his whirling head. He was never allowed out, and couldn't even go anywhere in the house without someone following him about. He'd grown strangely accustomed to this constant chaperone, and hardly noticed anymore when Tonks followed him into the bathroom.

Nobody new ever came to visit at Grimmauld Place. The monotony of it all made Harry's head buzz even more with horrid thoughts. He slept for much of the time, and barely dreamt anymore. He was glad of this; he could not bear watching the Order's destruction night after night. He only slept to avoid contact with… essentially everyone.

One particularly sunny day, Harry found it near impossible to sleep. On an impulse, he picked up the book of pictures that Hagrid had given him in his first year. He watched his parents on their wedding day, smiling and laughing, talking noiselessly with Sirius.

Harry's godfather looked so different in this picture than Harry remembered, but yet, somewhat the same. Up to the moment he passed through that wretched veil, Sirius had been laughing… Looking at this picture from so long ago, Harry could vividly remember his godfather's face on that horrible day.

Suddenly, the door to Harry's room burst open. Harry was so startled that he threw the heavy book nearly three feet in the air, landing on his left foot. He whipped his head around to see who had entered his room in such excitement, and found himself being smacked upside the head by none other than Hermione.

"HARRY POTTER. I am not going to sit and watch you wither away in your room any longer. I don't CARE what kind of horrible problem you've got, because I can't help it if you won't tell me whatever the hell is wrong with you. So I suggest you dress yourself, quickly, and then come downstairs with the rest of us and enjoy a nice tea." This exclamation was made in one breath only, and when she was finished, she looked as though she was about to pass out.

Harry could only gape at her. "I – I…" He found himself at a loss for words. He had never heard anyone speak so fast in his entire life, and at that moment, he felt very scared for his life.

Hermione sat on his bed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, Harry…" she said.

Harry was confused; he hadn't been SO scared that he should be crying… but careful inspection of his face revealed tears. Then he felt a throbbing pain in his left foot, and winced. The pain had caused tears to involuntarily well up in his eyes, he decided.

"Oh, no, it's – it's nothing. I'm not crying, I merely… got some dust in my eye," Harry insisted. He threw off the blankets covering him, and swung his legs out to dangle over the edge of the bed. He was about to stand up and change when he realized Hermione was still sitting on the bed.

"Um… Hermione… I mean to say… "Harry stammered, suddenly feeling very awkward.

"Yes?" She replied.

"Well, I mean, if you wanted to… erm… stay and watch, I mean…" Harry felt his skin warming to a blush.

"Uh – Harry… I think… I'll see you downstairs." Hermione got up to leave, looking confused.

"Wait, er, Hermione… can I talk to you? Later, I mean. It's… just… I need to talk to you, okay?"

Hermione's face changed immediately to a worried expression. "Harry, are you okay?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing… bad… I just…"

"Okay, no problem."

Hermione exited the room then, and Harry watched her hair, reflecting golden hues in the sunlight. He heaved a deep sigh before standing up. He nearly fell on himself as he tried to put weight on his left foot – it seemed to be sprained. Wincing, he dressed himself, and called out to Tonks, his chaperone for the day.

She bustled in from her spot right outside the door, and smiled at the disheveled sight of Harry. "What'sa matter, love?" she asked, twirling a lock of curly green hair around her finger.

"My foot… I think I sprained it."

"Well, how'd you do that? 'Aven't been out too much lately, nothing much to trip over when you're sleeping, eh?" She took her wand in hand, and adopted a look of pure concentration. "Now, now… I've got to remember, how to heal bones…" she mumbled.

"Er – Tonks… TONKS!" Harry shouted in panic, remembering Tonks' magical skill and that unfortunate event with Professor Lockhart in second year… He didn't want to end up drinking that awful Skele-Grow again.

But Tonks had already cast the spell. Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to open them, for fear of seeing a cat in place of where his foot should be. Gingerly he opened one eye, then the other. His foot seemed to be in order… He wiggled his toes, and to his surprise, it seemed to function just the way it always had. He stared at Tonks in surprise.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks exclaimed with a grin, and walked out of the room with a little bounce in her step. It was then that Harry began to wonder how much he had missed while staying alone in his room.

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A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I promise I'll try to update more!!!!!! 


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